


Competition

by Zhie



Series: Bunniverse [38]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turgon would much rather convince people with logic.  Celegorm is not sure it should be called logic when it comes from Turgon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competition

**Author's Note:**

> It's still Nolofinwean week on Tumblr, I'm just slightly late in posting (but Turgon said he didn't mind). (5/5/2014: Turgon)

The rules were simple. No one was allowed to compete with a sibling. No one would know ahead of time which games would be played, but there were some things, such as the ring toss and the flour sack race, that were always incorporated by Indis.

Turgon approached Celegorm, who was hiding in the shade under the porch of Finwe’s estate. Huan was there, too, and Turgon crouched down to scratch the hound’s head before he addressed Celegorm. “I registered us for the competition. We have the green bands.” He held out a strip of green fabric. A matching one was already tied around his shoulder.

“I never said I wanted to play those stupid games. Did Grandfather make you do this?”

“No. Grandfather actually looked a little shocked.”

“He is not the only one. Go find Maglor,” suggested Celegorm. He leaned back with his head against Huan’s shoulder. “No one ever partners with him.”

“Maglor does not want to.”

“That makes two of us.” Celegorm turned his head away in an attempt to end the discussion.

Instead of giving up, Turgon crawled further under the porch with his cousin. “The two people here who are most competitive are you and my brother. Are you sure you do not want a chance to beat him?”

“Your brother and my brother have won every year that Finrod and Aranwë have not. Just like every other year, one of those pairs will win.”

“Technically, mathematically speaking, the probability that one of those teams will win again decreases each year. Eventually, a different group is destined to win.” Turgon peered out the slats of the porch. “You know if you won, that might impress my sister.”

“Your sister always competes with Galadriel. If you want to talk about people who are competitive, add the little one to the list.”

“Who cares about Galadriel? Let her brood about it,” suggested Turgon. “She needs to lose more,” he decided. 

“If Galadriel loses, your sister loses.”

“So? Aredhel does not care about winning. She just cares what color band they have for the games and what kind of cake we are having after the races. And where you are,” he added.

Celegorm grumbled noncommittally, but did not move.

“The problem is that everyone tries a different partner each year except for those four. If we form an alliance now, my calculations are that it would take less than five years for us to be guaranteed a win.”

“Five years. You are something else, Turgon.” Celegorm shook his head. “And what is in it for you?”

“I like winning, too,” he freely admitted. “Of the seventeen choices – well, no, let me think, fourteen—“

“Thirteen,” corrected Celegorm.

“Maedhros, Maglor, you, Caranthir, Curufin, Ambarussa squared, Huan, Finrod, Orodreth, Angrod, Aegnor, Galadriel, and Aranwë.”

Celegorm sat up. “You just counted my dog with everyone.”

“Sure. Why not? Your father calls him his fur-child. He has his own bed. Our dog sleeps outside. Your dog talks. Allegedly.” Turgon switched to speaking to Huan. “Huan, would you like to compete with me today?” The hound wagged his tail.

“Give me that.” Celegorm tugged the green band out of Turgon’s hand. “Five years, huh?”

“Or less. Very possibly less,” said Turgon. “I pride myself on efficiency.”

“I just want to win,” said Celegorm as he crawled past Turgon and out from under the porch.

“Maybe next year,” Turgon told Huan before he followed after his cousin.

**Author's Note:**

> I like editorial mistakes. Therefore, Orodreth = Finarfin's kid. It happens. Just wait until I get around to posting the stories with Gil-Galad as Fingon's kid. I'll be messin' with e'erybody's head canon. (But it'll be adorable, trust me.)


End file.
